


To Fill and Fill Again

by plingo_kat



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Double Penetration, Gen, Incest, Kink Meme, M/M, Sibling Incest, Uncle/Nephew Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-21 23:34:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plingo_kat/pseuds/plingo_kat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com">Hobbit kinkmeme</a> fills. Most likely slash, very often incest.</p><p>1. Fili/Kili, Fili loves Kili but not romantically.<br/>2. Kili/Thorin, Five times Kili tried to seduce Thorin (and one time he succeeded).<br/>3. Fili/Thorin, Thorin seducing Fili.<br/>4. Thorin/Reader, sex/dirty talk.<br/>5. Kili/Fili/Thorin, Thorin has always been <em>very</em> fond of his nephews.<br/>6. Gen, bodyswapping.<br/>7. Fili/Kili, even though they love each other they can't get over the fact that they're <em>brothers</em>.<br/>8. Fili(/Kili/)Thorin, Kili watches after Fili and Thorin spend a sweaty day at the forge.<br/>9. Fili/Thorin, incest is not okay in dwarven culture.<br/>10. Fili/Kili/Thorin, Thorin is slightly touch-starved and there is double penetration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. as waves upon the shore

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Как металл любит ковку](https://archiveofourown.org/works/729785) by [silber_mond](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silber_mond/pseuds/silber_mond)



> I'm sorry for making awful puns (except not really.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt:](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/702.html?thread=244926#t244926) Fili loves Kili, sure, only not in a physical way. But ever since awkward Dwarf adolescence, Kili's been a little too physically affectionate and a little too clingy to be considered subtle.
> 
> Then they went on the journey, and Kili starts to pull out the guilt cards, how he's worried they might not survive, he's scared, etc. etc. etc.
> 
> Fili would do anything to make Kili happy.

It was not always so, Fili thinks. Kili’s quick, even breaths stir the hair of his beard. He turns over, careful not to wake his kin. At one time he could sleep peacefully by Kili’s side, never wondering what the morning might bring.

Never hoping, however deeply hidden in his heart, that Kili would not come to him, eyes hopeful, asking for all that Fili could give.

 

“Brother,” Kili says when he is newly fifty years old, grasping at Fili’s sleeve. 

“Brother,” Kili says when he is sixty, the both of them young dwarves grown, standing close enough that they press together from shoulder to hip.

“Brother,” Kili says when they are seventy-five and eighty, and cups Fili’s face in his hand.

 

Kili, Fili admits, is objectively quite attractive. His hair could do with some braiding (Fili offers and Kili accepts, but the braids disappear within a week and eventually Fili gives up; Kili never braids it himself) and Kili’s beard could stand to grow out a bit more, but then again so could Fili’s and he does not criticize in others what he sees in himself.

Fili also considers himself attractive. So does Kili.

Therein lies the problem.

 

“Merely to take the edge off,” Kili assures him, hand splayed high on his chest. Fili can feel the warmth of it soaking through his clothing, the weight pressing against his heart. “Please, brother?”

Fili agrees, for he can never deny Kili anything which is in his power to give.

 

“I would braid your beard, brother,” Kili says, and Fili consents to sit by the fire, basking in the warmth and resting his feet after a long days march.

“Oho,” Balin says, also seated by the fire. “Are we grooming ourselves, then?”

“Not as if you need it,” Dwalin grunts. “Too old for braids.”

“I’ve no need for vanity, that’s true,” Balin admits, leaning back against a conveniently placed stone.

“Bah,” Dwalin says. “You’ve no pride, that’s what.”

“I’m handsome enough,” Balin says, smoothing a hand over his beard and fingering the curled ends.

“Of course you are,” Fili says, and is chastised with a yank at the hair on his upper lip. He winces. “All right, I’ll stop talking.”

“Good!” Kili smiles up at him and Fili’s heart jumps, wondering if everybody can see the infatuation there, if they can see the way Kili’s fingers linger on the skin around Fili’s mouth and trace the shape of Fili’s chin, if they note the way Kili sits a little bit closer than is proper.

But Fili cannot open his mouth to tell Kili to move back after his promise not to speak, and he cannot pull away.

He sees Balin’s raised eyebrow before he closes his eyes entirely, hiding in the darkness.

 

“We cannot,” Fili hisses, backed against a tree trunk in the night, brush all around and dirt beneath their boots. “The others are stone throws away. Think of what Thorin would say if he caught us like this?”

“I do not care,” Kili murmurs against his lips, hands worming their way under Fili’s overcoat. “Peril has dogged our steps these past weeks, and we may never live long enough to see the home we search for. Give me this, brother.”

And Fili, willpower wavering in the face of his brother’s need... finally breaks.


	2. Five times Kili tried to seduce Thorin (and one time he succeeded)

**i.**  
“A dance, uncle?” Kili says, and then winces internally. He should not have brought up familial ties. Then again, Thorin is unlikely to dance without some sort of coercion, and the fact that it is his nephew asking might make the difference.

Thorin takes another drink out of his mug. Kili tries not to bounce on his toes.

“Very well,” he says finally, and rises. Kili trails him out onto the dance floor where they clasp hands.

The dance is fast, but one Kili knows well, so he can focus on Thorin’s fingers wrapped around his own, weather-rough and callused; Thorin’s arms, strong under the fine material of his tunic; Thorin’s hair, combed sleek and shining for the festivities; and Thorin’s face, eyes bright with merriment, mouth quirked the slightest bit upward with fondness for his nephew. They do not speak until after the dance is over.

“Where is your brother, then?” Thorin says, guiding Kili over to the tables for some ale. Kili takes the mug and drinks before answering.

“Off dancing his way through half the guests, I assume.” Kili tries on his best entreating expression. “Keep me company in the meantime?”

Thorin chuckles and pats Kili on the head. “Very well, lad. But don’t stay with me all night. There are plenty here that wish to catch your eye.”

Kili nods even as he thinks, _the only eye I wish to catch is yours._

 

 **ii.**  
“Well?” Fili says, and nudges Kili in the ribs. “Are you going to ask or not?”

“Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea,” Kili says, tugging nervously on the ends of his hair.

“Nonsense,” Fili says blithely, and shoves him forward. “Go on, ask him.”

“Erm,” Kili says when Thorin looks up.

There is a pause.

“Yes?” Thorin says.

“Er,” Kili says.

“You look tired, uncle,” Fili comes to his rescue. “Sit for a moment. We’ll keep the forge going.” He kicks Kili in the ankle. _Well?_

“Ah, perhaps I could help braid your hair,” Kili says, all but stammering. “To keep it out of the way of the fire.”

Thorin narrows his eyes at both of them: the look he gave when they were twenty and twenty-five and stole five barrels of ale; the look he gave when they were thirty-three and thirty-eight and ran down the halls with their training weapons drawn in a mock fight; the look he gave when they were fifty-six and sixty-one, and came home weaving and stinking of drink. Kili gulps.

“Very well,” Thorin consents, and lays down his tongs. Kili breathes in deep when he approaches, taking in the scent of sweat and metal, and flexes trembling fingers. He’s done this before. There is no need for nerves.

Thorin’s hair is thick and soft between his fingers, catching lightly on his calluses. He is careful not to tug or yank as he braids. A slight musk rises from Thorin’s mane, the smell of him more concentrated in the trapped air beneath his hair and above the back of his neck, and Kili finds himself leaning forwards, eyes sliding half-shut.

“Brother,” Fili says warningly, and Kili opens his eyes to a mess of tangled black, close enough that his breath stirs the strands.

“…Done,” Kili says, twining the last section of hair into place. “And you look fantastic, if I do say so myself.”

Thorin fingers the new braids and turns to look at Kili, the set of his mouth soft. “I’m sure I do.”

Kili’s heart pounds, pounds, like war drums in his chest.

 

 **iii.**  
Thorin finds a brooch on his mantle one night. Nobody admits to placing it there. He asks around for a week before finally accepting it as an anonymous gift.

“The craftsmanship is superb,” he confides to Kili, who nods seriously.

When he uses it to pin his cloak, Kili all but bursts with pride.

 

 **iv.**  
Whenever it is Kili’s turn to break fast, he always offers food to Thorin first. He does so out of both custom (for Thorin is his uncle and his king, deserving of respect twice over) and desire (for Thorin always smiles at this small politeness, and it sets Kili’s pulse thrumming like a hummingbird’s wings).

 

 **v.**  
“What are you doing?” Kili looks up when he realizes Bilbo is talking to him.

“Carving rock,” he answers after a look around. He motions the hobbit closer. “Here.”

The figure is less than half-done, but the shape is clearly recognizable.

“Who is it?”

“Aulë, our race’s creator. See the hammer? He was the smith of Middle-Earth, master of crafts, who created the vessels of the Sun and Moon.”

Bilbo nods. “And you are carving him for…?”

“Fortune and blessings on our journey,” Kili shrugs. “And for something to do with my hands as we rest by the fire.”

“It looks great so far,” Bilbo says, awkwardly sincere. Kili smiles encouragement. “I wish you luck with it.”

“Thank you,” Kili says. Just then, Fili makes his way over.

“Hide the tools!” he hisses, looking over his shoulder. “Thorin is coming.”

Kili fumbles the figurine into his coat; Fili and Bilbo both sit on a stone-carving tool, Bilbo with rather more bewilderment.

“Why are we hiding them?” he says.

“Well we can’t have Thorin discovering his gift early,” Fili says, clearly citing the obvious. “It would ruin the surprise.”

“But Kili said – you said that it was merely to keep your hands busy?”

Kili feels the fire creep slowly up his neck as Fili elbows him in the ribs, grinning.

 

 **o.**  
“I was worried,” Kili says, hands flitting over Thorin’s arms, his chest, his face. “When the pale orc dealt you that blow to the head—“

“Enough.” Thorin catches his wrist in a gentle grip, tugging him closer. “Your concern does you credit, but I am fine.”

“If I could have taken your place…”

“I would never ask it of you,” Thorin says. Kili is startled to find himself near enough to feel the low rumble in Thorin’s chest. “The thought of you hurt is more painful than any physical injury.”

“Thorin,” Kili says helplessly. “Uncle…”

“Kili,” Thorin answers, and his smile is subtle and sultry. “You wear your heart for all to see. You always have.”

“You _noticed?”_ Kili will deny that the question comes out as a squeak if anybody asks.

“It would be difficult not to,” Thorin says, and cups Kili’s cheek. Kili’s breath comes faster; the blood rushes in his ears.

“Then…”

Thorin kisses him, and it’s better than he ever dared to dreamed of.


	3. settle for no other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt:](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/702.html?thread=79550#t79550) I'd love to see Thorin fight a losing battle against his desires before just giving in and seducing the hell out of Fili, who loves it. Morals? Who needs them?
> 
> +1 if Fili has been planning to make a move of his own but always lost his nerve at the last moment.  
> +10 if Thorin ends up being a bit rough in the throes of passion, to the point where a bit of trickery is needed to hide the most obvious evidence/marks.

Fili notices Thorin’s strange behavior before any other dwarf. He says nothing, for Thorin only displays this behavior around him and he does not mind.

Kili is the second one to notice, because he spends most of his time with his brother.

“Do you think Uncle is acting a little bit… off?” he says, tugging idly at Fili’s hair. Fili jerks his head away, wincing as the strands held in Kili’s fingers separate from his scalp.

“Stop that! And no, Thorin is fine. He’s a good king.”

“Well, of course,” Kili says, and sprawls out so that his head lands on Fili’s lap, his arm under Fili’s knees. “But he’s been strange around us, hasn’t he?”

“What do you mean?” Fili hopes fiercely that Kili has not seen the same things he has.

“I _mean_ that he’s been giving us gifts, and braiding our – our yours, really – hair, and being, well, _strange_.”

“He’s just showing his favor. He likes us, you know. And we’re his heirs.”

“Mm.” Kili sounds unconvinced, but drops the subject. Fili breathes a silent sigh of relief.

 

Thorin really has been acting strange, though, and soon others begin to notice.

“…like a moon-eyed calf going a-courting,” Fili overhears one dwarf say to another, and his heart jumps.

“If he has chosen…” he hears another time, and thinks, _for we dwarves are jealous of our rights, and once we choose the one we desire we shall settle for no other_.

Great Smith, he hopes so.

 

“Fili,” Thorin calls after evening-meal one night, voice gruff. “Come, I would speak with you.”

“Yes, uncle?” Fili says, after laying a hand on Kili’s shoulder to keep his brother in his seat. He follows a half-step behind Thorin as they leave the room and walk the winding halls that Fili calls home (and that Thorin never will).

“A moment,” Thorin says. He stays quiet for far longer than a moment, but Fili doesn’t mind; the silence is peaceful, their footsteps echoing, and in that time Fili thinks that he feels closer to Thorin than ever before.

Thorin stops in a little used corridor far underground.

“Uncle?” Fili asks again, watching the torchlight dance shadows over Thorin’s face, hiding and revealing the dwarf’s high cheekbones and proud nose, glinting like gold over the strands of his hair.

“A moment,” Thorin murmurs, and steps closer. Fili allows himself to be backed against a wall, breath coming fast and shallow, heart speeding to a steady gallop.

“Uncle?” he tries one more time, but the word comes out faint and wavering, longing clear in the tone, and Thorin silences any further attempt at speech with the press of his mouth, lips soft and yielding, a question in return.

Fili lets out the breath in his lungs through his nose and opens eagerly, easily. Once Thorin realizes his welcome the kiss becomes harsh and plundering, his tongue an insistent push into Fili’s mouth, teeth pressed against his lower lip. Fili whines when he pulls away, chasing the contact.

“What you do to me,” Thorin rumbles, eyes dark. His broad hands grip Fili’s upper arms solidly, holding him against the wall.

“Thorin,” Fili says and nearly doesn’t recognize his own voice, so wrecked and full of need, shamefully begging after just one kiss.

“You are asking for it,” Thorin muses, slotting their hips together, Fili opening his legs wide in welcome. He leans forward to suck a mark into the skin under Fili’s jaw. “I’ll give you what you need,” he says, suddenly fierce, suddenly possessive.

The House of Durin, Fili thinks somewhat hysterically, has ever been unapologetic about taking what was theirs.

And then it is difficult for Fili to think at all, for Thorin is biting at his mouth and rucking up his tunic, hands tracing their way over his torso and pinching at his nipples, and Fili is gasping and moaning, his own hands fumbling at the waist of Thorin’s trousers, his shoulders pressing with bruising force against the wall at his back; they are the both of them going mad in the search for more skin and more pleasure, forge-fire burning in their blood.

 

When it is all over Fili’s tunic has a tear in the hem and Thorin’s hair is mussed beyond repair, Fili has bruises marked down the line of his ribs in the shape of Thorin’s mouth and on the inside of his thighs in the shape of Thorin’s fingers, and Thorin has some scratches and bruises of his own on his shoulders from where Fili gripped tight. 

“Let me,” Thorin says as Fili tries to fix his braids, and Fili shivers at the rasp in his voice even though he is spent.

“My tunic is a lost cause,” he says, and watches Thorin’s nostrils flare at how rough his own voice is, hoarse and low from holding back cries.

“I’m sure we’ll be able to think up an excuse for your appearance,” Thorin says, and smirks.

Fili rolls his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt:](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/702.html?thread=214718#t214718) Thorin/Reader, sex/dirty talk. Because what fan wasn't shivering whenever Thorin spoke? Who wasn't affected by that deep baritone voice? And what fan didn't fantasize about Thorin's large hands roaming over their body as that baritone voice spoke deliciously sinful things into their ear? Who didn't wonder if his dick would be large like the rest of him and what the dick would feel like in them? I know you all had at least one fantasy about Thorin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'VE FALLEN TO NEW DEPTHS
> 
> To write this I listened to Richard Armitage singing "Misty Mountains" on repeat for three hours. Also, I spent much too long reading about the Dwarvish language [here](http://www.uib.no/People/hnohf/khuzdul.htm) and [here](http://casualstrolltomordor.com/2011/01/expanded-dwarvish/). I agonized over an endearment for half an hour, you guys. (It translates literally to "silver of dwarf's" aka "my silver" because hey, dwarves liked precious metals so of course they would use those as endearments. _Kibil_ = "silver," _-ku_ = "of," _khuzd_ = "dwarf.")

“Do you like that?” His voice is low and liquid, smooth and dark as chocolate. “My mouth, my hands on you? You do make the most lovely noises.”

He pauses and you can hear his breathing, a deep inhale; feel the air move across your skin, a prickle of sensation.

“You are beautiful,” he says, suddenly fierce. His voice is barely above a whisper, but the bass note of it rumbles in your ears, sending heat down your spine. “I would look at every inch of you, touch your skin, kiss you until you could take no more. You are _mine_.”

 _Yours_ , you agree silently, and it seems he can sense your acquiescence because he smiles. You can hear it in his voice.

“I’m going to fuck you until you scream,” he murmurs into your skin. “Until you are one long exposed nerve ending, until you are so full of pleasure you think you can take no more—but you will, _kibilku-khuzd_ , for I will not be finished with you until I have taken my own pleasure…”


	5. as metal loves the forge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt:](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/702.html?thread=124606#t124606) Kili/Fili/Thorin, Thorin has always been _very_ fond of his nephews.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dedicate this fill to Mage in addition to the wonderful anon!OP, because she has fallen into Durincest with me and is generally an awesome human being. <3
> 
> Also, Happy New Years, y'all!

They take advantage of his favor shamelessly, of course. Fili is the more responsible one but even he has his moments, particularly during adolescence, where his actions are unbefitting the House of Durin; yet Kili is the one who drives Thorin nearly to madness, as when he takes up the bow and arrow as his chosen weapons.

“Uncle,” Kili pleads, eyes wide.

“Uncle,” Fili chimes in, moustache only long enough for the braids to reach the length of his lower lip, beard a soft fuzz on his chin.

Thorin closes his eyes and sighs. 

“Very well.”

 

Dwarves grow quickly, as they are a hardy race. The line of Durin is hardier than most for all that its branches have been cut down cruelly before their time. Thorin endures because he must; Dis, because she has her One, and two sons to look after.

Every time Fili and Kili run up to him to tug on his coattails, or to show him their little metal hammers and crudely made crafts, he vows anew to take back Erebor. To give his nephews, his heirs, a place to truly call home. 

 

Fili and Kili are comely children and they grow to be handsome dwarves, proud nose and high cheekbones breeding true, an affinity for weaponry and good mine sense both. Thorin will deny he dotes upon them, but they want for nothing that is within his power to give.

Whenever he visits they follow him with worshipful eyes. He tries not to feel a flush of warmth at the attention, but rarely succeeds.

 

“Please, uncle,” Kili says, biting his lip, gaze dark.

“Please, uncle,” Fili echoes, mouth red, the clasps in his hair undone, braids unraveling.

And Thorin looks at them, the jewels of his heart laid bare before his gaze, and feels greed stir in his soul.

 

They come to him in the night. He is helpless to resist.

Kili is the bold one, sure in his welcome – he kisses Thorin awake, lips lingering at the corner of Thorin’s mouth and hand pressed high on Thorin’s chest. Fili winds his fingers through Thorin’s own, matching palm to palm, chin hooked over his brother’s shoulder.

“We are certain,” he says before Thorin can open his mouth.

Thorin does not have to blink sleep from his eyes or wait for his mind clear away the softness of slumber; battle-sense woke him, the instinctive knowledge of other beings in his presence when his guard was down, and that wariness sharpens his senses.

“…Very well,” he says.

Kili takes it as an invitation. He all but fastens his mouth to Thorin’s, lips firm and yielding by turns, all wicked tongue and a hint of teeth. Fili busies himself taking off Thorin’s underclothing. It’s fumbling work, especially with only one hand free.

“Enough,” Thorin says when Kili pauses for breath, and sits up. He strips off his sleep tunic and waits, insouciant and lazy as a cat, for Fili and Kili to do the same.

They do so with admirable (and flattering) haste once they realize what he wants.

“May I…?” Fili says once he is naked and on his knees, gaze fixed hungrily below Thorin’s waistline.

“May I…?” Kili says at nearly the same time, and moves to press up against Thorin’s back, hand curled tentatively around Thorin’s hip.

“Of course,” Thorin says to Fili, and then has to close his eyes for a moment. Fili gives an indecent moan of gratitude. “Have you any oil?” Thorin asks Kili, voice strained.

“We thought you might,” Kili begins, and trails off as he watches his brother’s lips, red and wet around Thorin’s flesh.

“I do not,” Thorin grits out, and then rests a hand on the back of Fili’s neck, fingers gripping the loose ends of his hair. “Ah—slower, nephew, unless you wish me to finish early. Kili, tend to your brother.”

There is a pouting set to Kili’s mouth but he does as he’s told, running a hand down Fili’s spine and around his hip to settle at his front, fisting Fili’s cock in a surehanded grip. Fili groans, back arching; Thorin clenches his fists.

“Fili,” he rasps, and meets lust-glazed eyes, wet at the corners, peering up at him. “A moment.”

Kili has positioned himself to rub against the inside of Fili’s thighs, front tight against his brother’s back, so it takes a bit of shuffling to move everyone apart again. Fili’s mouth comes off with a slick pop and he licks his lips after, wanting.

“On the bed, both of you,” Thorin says. “It should be easier that way.”

“And you, Thorin?” Fili dares. His voice is a wreck already, hoarse and low, and Thorin feels arousal throb sharper in his belly.

“We wish to pleasure you,” Kili chimes in, as earnest as a boy but for the edge of need in his tone. 

“We may all please each other,” Thorin rumbles. They all fit – barely. Thorin has a larger chamber than most but even his bed is hard-pressed to hold three grown dwarves. Kili ends up straddling Thorin’s stomach; Fili worms his way between Thorin’s thighs and puts his mouth right back to use.

“Cheeky,” Thorin says. His left hand is tangling in Fili’s hair regardless as Kili leans down for a kiss and rubs his hips on Thorin’s torso. Thorin has to crane upwards for their lips to meet. He suckles at Kili’s lower lip to the same rhythm that Fili has set, then bites softly and drops back. “Turn.”

Kili blinks, dazed, tongue tracing where Thorin’s teeth were moments ago before understanding lights his eyes and he obeys, whorishly eager. Ah, youth. Then again…

He cups Kili’s thighs, feeling developing muscles and the dusting of hair, watching with appreciation how Kili traces the hollows of Fili’s cheeks.

“Brother,” Kili murmurs, and Fili’s eyes flutter open. Thorin tightens his grip in warning as Fili pulls away, but groans instead of administering an admonishment as the brothers kiss around his cock, open-mouthed and filthy, tongues teasing around the head. He can’t stop his hips from thrusting; Fili laughs quietly. The vibrations are maddening.

Thorin tugs on his braids in revenge and the laughter turns abruptly into a whining gasp, Fili’s chin digging into his hip as the boy’s arms give out.

“Oh, you like that, do you?” Thorin tugs experimentally on Fili’s hair again, shivering as Fili moans into the soft skin at the join of his thigh.

“Yes, uncle,” he says, voice thick.

“He’s even more sensitive if you do his moustache,” Kili volunteers, grazing teeth along the hipbone opposite Fili. Thorin rewards him with a squeeze around his cock with his free hand and Kili jerks, nearly hitting him in the nose with his own fist.

“Easy,” Thorin says as much to himself as his nephews, and tries to find a way to tug with both hands at once, in different ways with varying speeds, to little success. “Stay still,” he finally tells Kili in defeat, and guides him to the perfect angle.

Kili shouts when Thorin takes him into his mouth, a hoarse bark of sound that trails off into a low moan; he mouths at Thorin’s thigh mindlessly and Thorin flicks his tongue, wicked, before beginning to suck. Fili has wrapped his own mouth around Thorin again, throat spasming and back arching with each gentle tug on the hair of his upper lip.

“Please,” Kili is whispering before long, breath hot on Thorin’s skin. “Please, _ah_ please, uncle, _more,_ I’m going to—going to—“

He bites when he comes and the shock of pain is enough to bring Thorin to his own release. He has the presence of mind to keep his jaw slack but little else; halfway through their orgasms Kili’s cock escapes his lips and Kili’s spend stripes its way over Thorin’s chin and chest, hot on sweat-soaked skin.

Fili swallows and sucks and swallows, and when it begins to get too much Thorin urges him up so their eyes are level, so he can admire Fili’s red face and swollen lips, the way he pants and blinks dazedly at Thorin’s nose, obviously not quite focusing.

 _Beautiful_ , Thorin thinks in a moment of post-orgasmic sentimentality. Like a vein of gold running through rock, vibrant and unexpected and joyful. And his.

He kisses Fili, who has the presence of mind to open his mouth and suck on Thorin’s tongue but little else, who emits little whining whimpers as Thorin pulls at the braids of his mustache.

“That’s right,” Thorin whispers into Fili’s cheek, encouraging him to thrust against his hip. The angle isn’t ideal, but it is enough. He scrapes his teeth over the hair growing on Fili’s chin, along his jaw. “That’s good, you’re doing very good. Come for me, nephew.”

Fili spends himself with a keening cry and collapses, much as Kili did, next to him on the bed. Kili still has his face buried in Thorin’s thigh, actually, and Thorin nudges him carefully by bending one knee.

“Don’t fall asleep that way. We’ll kick each other in the face during the night, no doubt.”

Kili groans complainingly.

“Just turn, brother.” Fili still sounds dreamy, his words slightly slurred, voice low and rasping. “Sleep with us.”

“You’ll have to wake early to wash and dress,” Thorin warns. He spares a thought to rise and clean the three of them up before they regret it in the morning, fluids drying and itching, but Fili and Kili are lying half on top of him and it seems like a massive effort.

“Of course,” Fili agrees, and nuzzles into Thorin’s shoulder. “We will, uncle.”

“Yes, uncle,” Kili repeats, and finally moves himself to join them with his head toward the pillows. He drapes one arm across Thorin’s chest and a knee over Thorin’s leg, fingers and toes touching Fili’s skin. His head rests on Thorin’s upper arm.

“Comfortable?” Thorin asks dryly.

“Very,” Kili yawns. Spoilt brat, Thorin thinks fondly.

He falls asleep to the dual rhythm of his nephew’s breaths, and for once doesn’t dream of fire.


	6. Gandalf is Not Amused

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt:](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/1990.html?thread=1439430#t1439430) Can we have more obligatory bodyswapping? 
> 
> With all the confusion entailed. 
> 
> Bonus if Gandalf is one of the swappees, since there's magical abilities to consider then. He was used to taking other forms in the past at least, so bodyswapping shouldn't excessively throw him from that angle though.

"That is _enough!"_ Gandalf roared. It didn't quite have the effect he intended, however, since when he tried to make his voice its customary deep tone it cracked and broke like a tween's.

"I feel kind of fizzy," Bilbo said, and promptly lit his beard on fire. "What--Gandalf, how do I put it out? My fingers are flaming!"

"I'm so fat," Bombur's body moaned. Judging by the tone, it was probably Kili.

"No, really," Bilbo said, all but squeaking now. Gandalf sniffed. He sounded quite undignified. "Help, please!" He'd flung his hands out, fingers spread, so he looked a little bit like a scarecrow whose arms and head had been set alight.

"Excuse me," Ori-as-Thorin said, sidling over the the supplies. "Sorry, I've just got to..."

"What's all this racket?" Gloin said. Ah, there was Oin.

"Here you go," Thorin said (still politely! How strange) and upended an entire waterskin over Bilbo-as-Gandalf's torso.

"Thank you," he said faintly.

"Absolutely ridiculous," Gandalf muttered. When he moved to stroke his beard, all he felt was the brocade on Bilbo's vest.


	7. drink from the untasted well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt:](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/1990.html?thread=972486#t972486) Ok, so I'm going with dwarves only love once, and Fili and Kili are the ones for each other.
> 
> Despite being in love and young and horny, they are still brothers. I want something where they try to reasonably discuss going about this, eventually just deciding to test the waters, but they freak out midway and it ends in disaster. Slowly, after a few attempts they get more comfortable being intimate with each other. (How far they finally get is up to anon.)

“Wait, wait, stop.”

Fili immediately pulls back, opening his eyes. “What?” he says crossly.

“I can’t,” Kili says. Fili wants to snap at him but he’s incapable, not with the way Kili is shifting his weight from foot to foot, the way he is staring at the ground, the way his fingers are fiddling with the hem of his tunic. “It’s too strange. You’re my _brother_.”

“I know,” Fili sighs. And he does know; he spent _years_ watching the way Kili moved, thinking about the way Kili’s hair felt under his fingers, the way the light caught his eyes and turned them golden in the sunlight, the way his mouth formed shapes when he talked. Years, and it was Kili who was brave enough to make the first move.

“Another time,” Fili says, and cups Kili’s cheek. “We have the rest of our lives.”

Kili nods, but there is a sad set to his mouth that Fili can’t bring himself to kiss away.

 

It starts, as most things do, with a story.

All young dwarfs are told of Aulë known also as Mahal and how their people came to be; of Illúvatar’s decree, and the original thirteen. A lesser known story, but still quite popular, is told to Fili and Kili when they are small; a young dwarf lord falls in love with a young dwarf lass, who has no time for any romance because she is involved with her craft, and while the dwarf lord tries and tries to entice her into marrying him, he does not succeed until his beard is white and her hands weakened with age.

It is supposed to be both romantic and cautionary, a tale warning of the greed of their race and how that trait may be both wonderful and terrible.

All Fili takes away is that he will always love his brother more than anything else in the world.

 

The first time is quick, almost perfunctory. They are discussing what their mother might be making for dinner that night when Kili leans forward and presses his lips to Fili’s, close-mouthed and ill-fitting and awkward, cutting him off mid-word.

Fili blinks twice before he recovers.

“…That was terrible,” he concludes.

“Well if you’re just going to criticize,” Kili glowers.

“No, no, it’s fine. I was surprised, is all.”

They don’t talk about it.

 

They really love each other, is the thing. Fili runs his fingers through Kili’s hair and Kili braids Fili’s moustache; they share the same bed nearly every night, whispering endearments and jokes and speculations about their future; they look to each other constantly, and know the shape of each others’ bodies so well that every sparring session ends in a tie.

And yet.

 

The second time works out marginally better. They still bump noses, though, and barely touch tongues before pulling away again.

“Strange?” Kili asks, eyebrow raised.

“Strange,” Fili confirms.

And that’s that for another few months.

 

Fili watches Kili all the time. He memorizes his brother’s laugh, the wide stretching of his cheeks and the squinting of his eyes; the way he grips his hammer and his sword and his bow; the way he runs gentle fingers over the fletching of his arrows, a ghostly caress.

Fili watches, and wants, and dreams in the night.

 

“Perhaps we don’t have to touch each other,” Fili says, a hand cupping the nape of Kili’s neck. Kili’s face is mashed into his shoulder.

“What?” The word comes out muffled. Kili turns his head so that his breath flows over Fili’s neck. 

Gooseflesh raises on Fili’s arms.

“We could watch,” he says, voice gone rough. He isn’t sure if it’s nerves or arousal or both. Most likely both.

Kili hums but doesn’t reply. Fili is about to take back his suggestion when Kili nods, abruptly worming his way out of his brother’s hold and sitting next to him, thigh to thigh.

“All right then. We’ll watch each other.”

They both pause again, awkward, before stripping out of their clothes. Neither tries to be seductive or slow about it – they’ve seen each other naked throughout their lives and it’s nothing new. Yet Fili finds his eyes tracing the line of Kili’s torso, the curving of his ribs and the dip of his belly, the arch of his thighs and the jut of his hip. He finds himself reaching out before remembering himself and stepping away, out of arms reach.

“Am I so irresistible?” Kili teases. He splays a hand just above his cock, fingers carding through the trail of hair leading down from his belly. 

“Shut up,” Fili says, rolling his eyes. Yet even Kili’s arrogance is endearing, as is the way he bites his lip and half-lids his eyes to watch Fili thumb at his nipples.

“Oh, you want this to be a silent show?” Kili fists himself, slowly working his way up to full hardness. Fili feels heat coil in his gut and does the same, if only to hide the fact that he doesn’t actually need the physical stimulation to become aroused. “Wouldn’t that be a bit disappointing, brother?”

“Not at all,” Fili says. “Your voice is a terrible deterrent, you know.”

“Liar.” Kili smirks at him, sitting down in his bed and splaying his legs.

“Oh really,” Fili says. “Let’s make a bet, then.”

“Over what? And with what stakes?” Kili’s breathing is heavy already, and Fili feels a smug glow of accomplishment in his chest. Yes, watching each other was a _good_ idea.

“Whoever finishes first must do as the other says for the next sevenday.”

Kili’s eyes gleam. “You have yourself a bargain, brother.”

He immediately stretches out on his bed, pointing his toes and arching his back to flex supple muscle and showcase the breadth of his shoulders, the strength in his legs. Fili watches avidly, still standing with fingers tracing idly over his hip.

Fili knows that Kili will make a production of himself. He also knows that Kili will get lost in the role, in the pleasure, and that all he has to do to win is wait Kili out. Yet that is harder than he expects, for Kili is beautiful in his abandon, hair dark and wild over the sheets, a flush rising slowly on his chest and up his throat.

“Aren’t you going to touch yourself, brother?” Kili’s voice is low and liquid, each word rolling off his tongue like molten copper, thick and hot and burning. He moves his fist in example and Fili licks his lips as the red head of his cock is hidden and revealed with each stroke.

“I’d much rather watch you,” Fili murmurs. He takes a step closer and Kili’s breath hitches; arousal hits him hard in the belly at the thought that he can affect Kili so easily, and his cock jumps a bit against his stomach.

Kili half-laughs, half-moans, and Fili wishes fiercely for a moment that he could swallow the sound, that he could plunder Kili’s mouth until his lips were swollen and bruised, that he could touch Kili all over until all he could do was helplessly whine Fili’s name and beg for release.

“Suck on your fingers,” Fili directs, suddenly desperate to have some sort of say in how Kili brings himself off.

“Already-- _ahh_ , already bossing me around?” Kili thumbs the tip of his cock and his head tilts back, the tendons in his neck straining. “You haven’t won yet.”

“I’m the older brother,” Fili points out, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip. “Go on. You know you want to.”

Kili flicks his fingers in bastardized _iglishmêk_ , signing a rude dismissal before bringing his hand to his lips.

Great Mahal, Fili thinks, fingers closing tight around himself for control. Kili looks _filthy_ with his cheeks hollowed and lips red, thrusting into his fist even as his throat works. And then Kili moans, muffled and wanting, and Fili loses what little is left of his mind.

“You are mine,” he hisses, stripping himself now to the brutal pace Kili has set, matching the movement of their wrists and forearms. “Mine, Kili. _Brother._ Say it.”

Kili sucks on his fingers for a few more agonizing moments before he pulls them out, the digits glistening, and Fili groans at the sight of it: Kili’s pink tongue flickering wickedly between them before they trail down Kili’s heaving chest, circling a dark nipple and then moving down between Kili’s thighs.

“Yours,” Kili whimpers, eyes locked on Fili’s. He bites his lower lip, sucking it between his teeth. “I’m yours, Fili.”

And then his eyes go wide, brow furrowing, and Fili is the one who groans as if dying when Kili comes, back one tight arch as the pleasure thunders its way through his veins. Fili doesn’t last much longer, hooded eyes taking in the pale streaks of white striping Kili’s fist and chest and belly, his own completion making his knees weak and shaky.

“…I win,” Fili says when he can think again.

Kili hits him with a pillow.

 

That night breaks something open within them, between them, and suddenly Fili is able to plunder Kili’s mouth, to make his brother moan and whine and whimper against his lips as their hips grind together beneath layers of clothing, to trail teasing fingers down the inside of Kili’s thigh and cup the bulge in his breeches whenever they have a moment alone.

“One day,” Fili pants into Kili’s ear, cock pressed snug against the swell of Kili’s behind, the soft cotton of their underclothing a maddening barrier between them. “One day I will have you bare, just like this, up against a wall, and you will be tight and sweet around me, brother, you’ll beg for my cock in you filling you up—“

 _”Fili,”_ Kili gasps, baring his throat. “Yes, yes, I want—“

“—fuck you until you scream, my _atamanel_ — “

“—yours, all yours, _please_ —“

“—come for me now—“

“—oh, _brother_ — “

Kili spills hot into Fili’s hand, and Fili thinks: _soon_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _atamanel_ translates (in Khuzudul) to "(the) breath of (all) breaths," which I thought was fitting as a declaration of love. Also, the title of this fill has its roots in the poem/song "Durin" that Tolkien wrote.


	8. smiting the red iron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt:](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/2235.html?thread=3022267#t3022267) Kili gets all hot and bothered when his uncle and brother come home from working the forge all day long. He doesn't really like to join in, but he loves to watch them going at each other, tearing off their sweaty clothes and rubbing their coal-smeared bodies against each other. They always put on a great show for him.
> 
> Doesn't hurt that his uncle and brother talk to him while he jerks off, and they talk to each other, too.

Kili comes back from his hunting trip early. The pickings were good and he got lucky with a nice fat pheasant no more than a day’s ride out of town, so he arrives back triumphant with various greens, five rabbits, a fox, and his bird on the third day of his excursion.

Money has been running a bit tight lately, what with Thorin wishing to outfit Fili and Kili properly as the warriors they now are. They’ll smith their own weapons, of course, but that requires expensive raw metal while leathers, new coats, belts and buckles, and a myriad of other little bits and bobs eat into their funds. Their mother has left them to it, traveling to meet up with some of their other kin in another town of Men some way away.

It is due to this that Kili comes back to an empty house. He sheds his boots at the door, unwilling to track mud and worse inside, and pads with bare feet into the kitchen where he lays his haul out. Hours pass while Kili prepares the meat, skinning and slicing and plucking, and it is full dark by the time Fili and Thorin bang in the door with their soot-smeared skin and loose smithing tunics, tired and filthy and hungry.

“Brother!” Fili cries in thrilled surprise, and Kili has to warn him off with a mock brandishing of his knife or else be covered in grimy black dust.

“Kili,” Thorin nods in a more restrained manner, but Kili can see the pleased set to his mouth, the glint in his eyes.

“I’ve made dinner,” Kili says, and gestures to the thick stew bubbling over the fire. “Let me just finish this up and then I’ll join you.”

Fili fills up three wooden bowls to the brim while Thorin fetches the utensils. Kili focuses intently on his knife, not watching how Fili swipes his hair away from his face with the back of his hand, leaving a clean smear of skin on his forehead; nor seeing how Thorin’s sleeves are rolled up past his elbow, the cuffs wet where he plunged his arms into a water barrel to clean them before coming home. He most certainly doesn’t pay attention to how either of his kin’s thin tunics still stick to their torsos, sweat dampening the fabric and making it cling, outlining the cut of muscle and bone.

They exchange news while they eat. Fili and Thorin have sold a sword and a whole set of kitchenware, and have orders for some horses to be shoed on the morrow. Kili regales them with his fortuitous meeting with the pheasant, and how the fox he killed had been trying to steal one of his snared rabbits. Without mother there to mind them, all three lick their bowls clean before setting them aside.

“So,” Fili says, and his voice is low and lilting, the word a suggestive intimation.

“Bedroom?” Kili offers, biting his lip. He spent the entire time he was away imagining how Fili and Thorin came back to the house without him, stripping out of their clothes and rubbing their coal-covered skin together, leaving dirty-clean streaks on the other with hands and mouths. It makes his breath come heavier now, arousal pooling low in his belly.

“I’ve no objection,” Thorin says mildly when they look to him, and follows as they lead the way to their room, two beds pushed together a day after Dis left in order for the three of them to fit.

Kili shakes his head when Fili reaches for him, teeth catching on his lower lip; Thorin pulls Fili away, murmuring into his ear. It happens sometimes, when Kili doesn’t want to get dirty or when he’s been _imagining_ , and the routine is settled enough that Fili goes without protest, melting into the kiss their uncle bestows upon him.

They strip together, Thorin’s hands possessive but gentle on Fili’s skin, Fili fumbling slightly with the ties on Thorin’s breeches. Kili leaves his clothes in a pile on the floor. Thorin drapes his and Fili’s over a chair.

“See how eager your brother is?” Thorin says, and the rumble of his voice is nearly a shock after the soft breaths from their lungs and the rustling of their clothing in the candlelit room, warm and cozy as a well-lived in cave. He splays a palm over Fili’s lower belly, standing close behind the other dwarf. “How beautiful?”

Fili’s mouth (and Kili’s too, he admits) drops open at that, lips parting in a silent sigh. His head tips back and the firelight shines in his hair, illuminating it like strands of gold against Thorin’s darkly pelted chest.

“He worked hard while you were away,” Thorin confides, fingers stroking slow, circling paths along Fili’s skin. Fili’s muscles quiver. “Hammering throughout the day, cooking in the evenings, pleasing—“ and here Thorin shifts, gripping sensitive skin and running a thumb over Fili’s leaking tip, making Fili groan, “—pleasing me during the night.”

Kili has his own cock in hand now and is stroking with slow motions, much slower than the swing of Fili’s arm as he would move when smithing.

“Please,” Fili gasps. He is barely audible, the word more air than sound.

“You mould metal with skill,” Thorin says to Fili. His nose nudges the shell of Fili’s ear as he nuzzles into his nephew’s neck. “Yet I wonder if you pay the shape of your own body as much mind, to see what pleasure you can wring from it…”

Kili can see the whiteness of Thorin’s teeth as he smiles, and can tell the instant that he bites when Fili moans, shameless, hips jerking. He licks his lips and brings his free hand up to trace his chest, pressing to feel the weight against his sternum.

“Please,” Fili says again, and his mouth is open and wet, the short braids of his moustache trailing along his cheeks, eyes screwed tightly shut. “Uncle— _brother_ —“

“Should I take him?” Thorin’s gaze is wicked, the slant of his mouth teasing. “Bend him over on all fours and mount him, hard, so that he cries out with the pleasure of it?”

He grinds forward to demonstrate and Kili’s own back arches in sympathy. Fili merely spreads his legs wider and moans again, ceding all control and higher thought. Kili knows that Fili would welcome being used as an instrument for his uncle’s pleasure, would clench his hands in the bedsheets and hang his head so his hair cascaded around his face, a fall of molten gold; would whine and pant and beg for it, spreading his knees out and humping against the mattress, jerking with each of Thorin’s punishing thrusts.

Would open his eyes when he came, and focus on his brother.

Thorin moves quickly at Kili’s mute nod, planting a hand on Fili’s back and pushing him down, nudging Fili’s thighs apart once the both of them are on the bed. Kili tosses Thorin the oil.

Fili hisses at the intrusion of Thorin’s fingers.

“Tell him how you feel,” Thorin murmurs into the base of Fili’s spine, licking and kissing at the skin of his back. “There’s a good lad.”

 _”Ah,”_ is all Fili can manage at first. He pants shallowly for a few moments until Thorin bites him lightly on one arse-cheek, just hard enough for red marks to bloom on his skin. “Augh, Mahal—good, it feels good, like you’re filling me up, _nhn,_ more? Please? Another, Thorin?”

Thorin chuckles, and the sound mixes with Fili’s begging in Kili’s mind. He must make some sort of noise as well, because when he looks at them again both Thorin and Fili are staring at him, eyes bright and hungry.

“Look at how close your brother is,” Thorin whispers to Fili, and does something with his fingers that has Fili whining. “How the sight and sound of you begging for my cock pleases him. Do you wish him to come when I am in you properly, Fili? Do you wish to be pinned to the bed, helpless and wanting, an instrument for our enjoyment?”

Fili nods frantically, brows knit and lip caught between his teeth. _”Please,”_ he gasps, agonized.

Thorin withdraws his fingers. Fili pushes back, chasing contact; Kili moans as he watches Thorin coat his cock with oil, gripping tight at the base in order to hold himself back. 

“Come whenever you wish, nephew,” Thorin says, and it isn’t clear at all who he is addressing. Perhaps the both of them. He sheathes himself in one slow push, holding Fili’s hips still against the mattress.

Kili watches, helpless, bound, enthralled by the way Thorin’s cock disappears into his brother’s body, by the way Fili clenches his fists and struggles, by the way tendons stand out in the base Thorin’s neck. Fili whines, airy and desperate; Thorin groans harshly. 

Kili knows well what Thorin is feeling: tight heat and incredible sweetness, a vicious sense of satisfaction that he possesses what is his. When Thorin starts to thrust, he matches the movement of his fist to Thorin’s hips.

Fili’s arms are lax now, useless and limp and lying by his head as his chest is rubbed against the sheets with each thrust of Thorin’s hips. His mouth is open, lips swollen and red, his eyes wet and blinking dazedly in Kili’s general direction.

“Brother,” Kili says tightly, feeling the heat coiling at the base of his spine. “Fili, look at me.”

Fili makes an effort to focus – Kili can _see_ him make an effort to focus – but a hard thrust from Thorin wipes the awareness from his gaze again, face twisting in ecstasy, and Kili is lost. He comes hard, hard enough for his knees to shake and shudder and refuse to support his weight, for his eyes to flutter closed and his throat release a moan almost loud enough to be a scream.

He recovers his faculties just in time to see Thorin push into Fili three more times, his body blanketing his nephew’s, his dark hair hanging forward and mingling with Fili’s golden mane on the bedspread. Thorin shudders and comes all but silently.

The three of them take a moment to catch their breaths.

“Wet spot,” Fili mumbles eventually, and Thorin pulls out carefully while Kili fetches a washcloth to wipe themselves down with. After that’s done they crawl under the covers together, Fili and Kili on either side of Thorin, their arms and legs flung all over each other, all three of them a helpless tangle of limbs.

“Argh,” Kili realizes before he drifts off to sleep. “You’ve smeared ash all over me…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to leupagus' comment on tumblr about the quote about Thorin in RotK's Appendix A re: smote the red iron sounding like masturbation:  
>  
> 
> _"The years lengthened. The embers in the heart of Thorin grew hot again, as he brooded on the wrongs of his House and of the vengeance upon the Dragon that was bequeathed to him. He thought of weapons and armies and alliances, as his great hammer rang in the forge; but the armies were dispersed and the alliances broken and the axes of his people were few; and a great anger without hope burned him, as he smote the red iron on the anvil." (Appendix A, ROTK)_  
>   
> 
> I... made it a terrible punny title and I'm not actually that sorry about it. Whoops.


	9. stolen, borrowed, squandered, doled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt:](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/2235.html?thread=2658491#t2658491) As much as I love all the Durincest happening these days, can we please have a fic in which it isn't all just perfectly peachy keen for an uncle and his nephews to be fucking like rabbits? Every time someone catches wise, can we not have them just chuckle and act like it's NBD? Can someone please include a very real fear of being caught when they can manage to steal a forbidden moment? How about some real remorse, anxiety and self-loathing on Thorin's part?
> 
> Bonus points if Fili, Kili and/or Thorin try to justify to themselves/each other breaking such a deeply entrenched cultural taboo?

It is gold-lust, Thorin thinks every time, stomach churning with guilt and self-flagellation, with love and desire. There are so few dwarves with fair hair, and fewer still with the rich yellow color of Fili’s, thick and substantial and shining.

Gold-lust, he tells himself as he runs his hands over his nephew’s skin. Ever has it been a weakness of their people, and of his house.

(He is not strong enough to overcome that failing.)

 

“Thorin,” Fili whines and Thorin shushes him quietly, placing a broad palm over his mouth. Fili merely licks at him, sucking on callous-rough skin. Thorin’s eyes darken.

“We must be silent,” Thorin breathes. Fili’s brows are drawn together, pleading. He presses harder against Fili’s face, the younger dwarf’s cheeks distorting from the force of his fingers. “Understand?”

Fili ducks his chin in the slightest nod.

“Beautiful boy,” Thorin groans in approval, and leans in for a kiss.

 

Not even Kili knows.

Oh, Fili has faith that his brother would not turn them in; would come around in time, loyalty and love of a more appropriate sort staying his tongue from the disaster that would occur if word of their – Thorin hardly knows what to call it, even in the privacy of his own mind, yet he decides that _consorting_ is the only appropriate word – if their _consorting_ became public knowledge.

It has been a long while since the last king was cast out, driven from the throne. Thorin does not wish to put that responsibility on his nephew’s shoulders. _Either_ of his nephew’s shoulders.

No. When he can bear it no more; when the guilt keeps him awake at night more often than nightmares of drakes or sweet dreams of firelight on golden hair, of smiling eyes and soft lips, of needy cries and welcoming arms – then Thorin himself will reveal what he has done, and let Dwalin strike him down.

 

“I love you,” Fili says, adoring. His lips stretch in a smile, cheeks dimpling and moustache curving, the braids in his hair set into swinging motion. He places a hand on Thorin’s cheek. “I love you as ore loves stone, as metal loves the forge.”

“You are young,” Thorin says.

“What harm is there in it, if you are my one?” Fili says.

Thorin doesn’t answer.

 

“Beautiful,” Thorin sighs, Fili’s wrists pinned beneath his hands, Fili’s hips surging against his own. “My own.”

“Please,” Fili begs, and thrusts upwards. “Please, Thorin, I want to—“

“Shh.” Thorin leans down to brush a kiss against Fili’s lips, light as an underground breeze. “You’ll have me, I promise.”

Fili pants and watches with heavy-lidded eyes as Thorin prepares himself; he bites his lip and tenses when Thorin wraps an oiled hand around his length, trying to show control.

“Like fire,” Thorin whispers into his skin, nuzzling to feel the heat of him, the thrumming of his blood. “Golden and bright, burning, _bryn. Men lananubukhs menu.”_

 _”Menu zirup men,”_ Fili groans as Thorin bears down. “Ah--!”

“That’s it,” Thorin urges, sinking down another inch. “Let it go. Let me have it all.”

And Fili shuts his eyes, head and heels pressing back against the mattress, and obeys.

 

Every day Thorin thinks he should end it. Every day Fili looks at him, hair shining burnished in the light, and he thinks: _not yet._

Like Erebor, he cannot let this go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from the poem _Gold!_ by Thomas Hood.
> 
> Khuzdul translations:
> 
>   * _bryn. Men lananubukhs menu_. = brilliant. I love you.
>   * _Menu zirup men._ = You complete me.
> 



	10. ukratizu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt:](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/2235.html?thread=2756539#t2756539) So Fili and Kili have their dwarven soulmate thing going on and Thorin knows and is all fine and dandy with it EXCEPT Thorin is loney and NEEDY AND TOUCH-STARVED AND HUNGRY FOR AFFECTION so he broods and pines and longs until Fili and Kili catch on and decide to do something about it like the good nephews they are.
> 
> A kingdom for double penetration. A dwarf kingdom.

Kili comes to him for advice, of all things, after he catches them kissing awkwardly in the shade of a tree with hands on hips and shoulders, noses pushing into each others’ cheeks. Thorin frowns and they blush guiltily, but their fingers are entwined and they face him together. In the end he has only one question.

The answer is that of course they love each other; they always have.

How this leads to Kili standing in front of him asking how to court is a mystery.

“He’s better at braiding than I am, so I can’t do that,” Kili says. “And we’re always in the forge at the same time, so I can’t make him a gift because it wouldn’t be a surprise. And mother cooks, so I can’t make him a meal either.”

He uses the big, pleading eyes that Thorin could never resist. “Help, uncle?”

“I’ll think of something,” Thorin sighs.

 

He spends too much of his time pondering it. Each strike of his hammer is another idea considered and discarded. Poetry; no, Fili is the one more talented with words. A song; no for the same reason. The gift of company; they are together every waking moment in any case. Looks under the eyelashes, a brush of hands, secret smiles and whispered endearments; Thorin will not instruct his nephews in this.

In the end, he comes home to his sister and her sons sweaty and streaked with soot, empty-handed.

(He is always empty-handed, he thinks darkly.)

 

“What do you want?” Thorin asks Kili. “What would you desire your brother do to show his affection?”

Kili’s face is a picture, all consternation and confusion. “Nothing. He already does everything I could ever wish for.”

“Well then,” Thorin says.

Kili nods, slowly.

 

Dis and he discuss it, after the boys have gone to bed (their shared room with separate mattresses just a pretense now; only one set of sheets ever shows signs of use in a night). She worries that their bond is only familial affection taken to the extreme, that they are too young to know what true love – romantic love – is. Thorin thinks of the way he caught them that one afternoon, sunlight dappled through the leaves patterned on their skin, the tender way their hands cupped flesh, how they stayed shoulder-to-shoulder when anticipating his wrath. He thinks of how he has seen them since, fingers brushing casually over the napes of each others’ necks, clasps on the shoulders and friendly body-checks, sitting too close and smiling special smiles and a hundred other little things that ensconce the two of them in their own special world.

They love each other, he assures her, laying his hands over hers on the cool wood of the dining table. Let them have that.

She sighs and nods, turning her wrists so that they are palm to palm. They sit like that for a while, watching the fire burn to embers in the hearth.

 

It has been a long time since he has been around a new couple in love. The last instance when Thorin was exposed to this much affection was when Dis found her one. They courted disgustingly all over the place, sweet nothings and public kisses and adoring eyes everywhere Thorin looked. He didn’t begrudge them their happiness but was always aware that he didn’t have that connection; that he was intruding on their bond, and wished he could make himself scarce.

This time Thorin doesn’t so much wish he could leave as wish he could indulge in touches too. Fili and Kili climbed all over him when they were young, placing sticky hands on his face and neck and hair, snuggling up to him whenever they could. That stopped as they got older, of course. But now they touch each other constantly, casual and easy as breathing, and Thorin feels the lack.

He tries not to let it show. He thinks he is doing a good job, actually, until Fili asks to talk to him after dinner one night.

“Fili,” he says, and waits.

“Uncle,” Fili says, bowing his head. His fingers fidget with the loops of his belt, the hem of his tunic.

“Yes?” Thorin prompts when it doesn’t seem like Fili will continue. “You requested a private conversation for a reason, surely.”

“Ah,” Fili says. “Of course.” He looks up then, eyes wide and guileless, lip caught between his teeth.

“Do you desire Kili and I?”

Thorin nearly chokes. As it is he coughs twice, a hollow space opening in his chest.

“What?”

“It’s just,” Fili barrels ahead, obviously deciding that the worst is over and he should just spill everything, “that we see you looking at us sometimes, and you seem…”

“I seem?” Thorin manages to get out.

“Hungry,” Fili finishes, and his tongue flicks out to wet his lower lip, leaving it glistening in the light. “Wanting.”

“Wanting,” Thorin echoes, and the incredulousness doesn’t quite make it into his voice; he sounds low and rough and yes, _wanting_ instead, and Fili’s tongue traces out over his lip again, an agonizingly slow movement that captures Thorin’s gaze.

“We would give you whatever you desire,” Fili says. Thorin watches his mouth shaping the words. “If you asked.”

When Thorin continues to stand still and silent, he bows and leaves. He doesn’t see how Thorin’s hands clench slowly into fists, nor how his face twists in self-recrimination.

 

“I would have you both,” Thorin whispers into Fili’s skin, although Kili is the one to groan. The two of them are wild-eyed and flushed, naked and splayed out on the expanse of both their beds pushed together in the center of the room. They are beautiful.

“How?” Kili asks, and gets up on his hands and knees in invitation.

“You could take Kili first – I could wait – I could help—” Fili is all but stumbling over his words, panting under the trail of Thorin’s fingers, of Kili’s hot stare.

“No,” Thorin shakes his head. He aches to be closer to them, to blanket them with his body, to feel the sweat-slick slide of skin on skin. It’s been so long. “No, I would _have_ you both. At the same time.”

Neither of them understand, not yet. Kili’s brows draw together; Fili tugs uncertainly on one side of a braided moustache. Thorin soothes them with caresses and kisses, nipping lightly at their skin.

“Shh. Let me show you.”

They scoot to sit side by side with their backs against the headboard as Thorin fetches the oil, hands on each others’ thighs. Both their eyes widen when Thorin applies the oil to himself. Both of them bite their lips.

“Have us at the same time,” Fili says softly, and his cock jumps a little against his stomach. “You can’t—”

“I can,” Thorin assures him. He kisses Fili, sucking that plump lower lip between his teeth. “You’ll just have to go slowly.”

“What?” Kili says.

“Your brother will explain,” Thorin says, then groans as his fingers hit the spot that makes his hips jerk and his feet flex. His eyes move from light hair to dark and back, finally holding Fili’s gaze. “Which of you has more control?”

Fili darts a glance at Kili, but answers readily enough. “Me.”

“Hey!” Kili says, but the protest is faint and he goes easily when Thorin pulls at his ankle, wriggling so that he’s lying on his back.

“I trust you’ll be able to keep this position?” Thorin says. He straddles Kili’s thighs.

Kili nods wordlessly, mouth open, eyes gone dark and hot. His chest rises and falls quickly.

“Keep his hands there,” Thorin tell Fili, and barely waits for Fili to pin Kili’s wrists to the bedspread before grasping Kili’s cock and easing himself downwards, fully prepared to counteract Kili’s startled jerk. When he speaks again his voice is strained. “Kiss him if you like.”

Fili does, the angle awkward – he and Kili are nearly perpendicular, and Fili must crane his neck. Thorin watches the flex of muscle in Fili’s back with appreciation, rocking incrementally downwards. Kili moans, the sound muffled by Fili’s mouth.

“Ah,” he sighs when Kili is fully inside, when he is sitting in the cradle of Kili’s hips. He is already so full – he clenches and Kili jerks, making more noises that Fili swallows – and this is only the beginning.

“Fili.” The rasping quality of his voice is a surprise. He knows it must not have been too long, though Kili is sweating and writhing on the bed; he has only just relaxed enough to feel comfortable bidding Fili to stop kissing his brother and move behind him. “You know what to do?”

Fili looks at him, eyes dark and mouth red, a flush riding high on his cheeks. “Yes, Thorin.”

“Go slowly.”

Fili bites his lip and nods before shuffling out of sight, and Thorin focuses his attention on Kili. Kili, whose hair is a tangled mess around his head, who has his eyes squinched shut and mouth open wide, split-slick lips swollen and mouthing silent obscenities. Kili, whose fists are clenched in the bedspread by his head, who already looks dangerously close to coming.

“Look at me,” Thorin says, and Kili’s eyes open, glazed and unfocused. Thorin rocks a little just to see the way Kili’s jaw tenses, a muscle ticking in his neck. Thorin opens his mouth to speak again but a startled sound escapes instead. Kili tosses his head, shuddering.

Fili presses a kiss against Thorin’s shoulder. “Sorry,” he says. His voice is shaking a little, low and hungry. “Is that all right?”

“Hnn.” Thorin breathes deeply, trying to relax. Fili’s finger feels huge within him, each movement of muscle and bone exquisitely translated through his nerves. “Ah—yes. Yes, that’s—good. More.”

Kili is silent now, hips twitching feebly under Thorin’s own. Thorin leans down so they are chest to chest and he can nuzzle into the damp skin of Kili’s neck, not incidentally giving Fili better access. Another finger breaches him; he hisses and clenches, body instinctively resisting further intrusion.

“You should see what you look like.” Fili sounds like he’s far away, dreamy. “Stretched so, so wide, hot and tight around Kili’s cock, uncle—“ he adds another finger, slowly, and it burns and Thorin bites at Kili’s skin and he doesn’t know who is making those low, rough noises, himself or his nephew.

Fili’s breath gusts over the lowest knob of his spine. Thorin shudders as he realizes – Fili has bent closer for a better look, nose right at the cleft, mouth over his knuckles. When Fili licks at the base of Kili’s cock, awkward and cramped, fingers crooking, Thorin groans like he’s wounded. 

“Can I?” Fili presses wet, open-mouthed kisses over Thorin’s thighs and arse. “Thorin, can I?”

 _”Kemgu,”_ Thorin gasps. 

This is the last coherent word he manages. Fili’s fingers slide out of him only to be replaced by a blunt pressure at his hole. Kili whimpers under them as Thorin is breeched, little pushing thrusts that just nudge the head inside, and Thorin moans with pleasure and pain, too full.

“Fire and stone,” Fili is whispering into his shoulder, lips dragging against his skin. “Thorin, _Thorin_ \--”

Kili chooses that moment to squirm. Fili’s hips jerk in response and Thorin cries out, overwhelmed. From then on his world is a mess of sensation, nothing clear. There are flashes of Kili’s eyes wide and wild; of sweat dripping onto his back from Fili’s nose; of his cock dragging over the hair on Kili’s stomach; and always the two of them him inside him, constant motion and unbearable heat spearing through his guts, propelling him to transcendental heights of pleasure.

He thinks he comes, shaking. Kili is all but sobbing below him, thighs tense and heels digging into the mattress. Fili gasps snatches of guttural khuzdul, all _beautiful_ and _mine_ and _please, please uncle_ , hips snapping.

It’s quite possible Thorin passes out.

He comes to with the two of them still inside him, though softening – Kili is staring dazed and blank-eyed at the ceiling, and Fili is draped limply over Thorin’s back.

Thorin grunts.

Then he winces as Fili pulls out after a bit of prodding. Kili slides out as well with Fili’s movement and he makes a soft sound high in his throat. It is as if the movement used up the last of Fili’s strength; he flops down beside Thorin and Kili on the bed. His hair is wild, escaping his braids, and his mouth bitten and red. He looks stunned and drugged.

Thorin thinks vaguely that they should probably clean up, but his limbs refuse to respond to his command. When Kili nuzzles into the curve of his shoulder and Fili slings an arm around his waist, he decides that it can wait for the morning.

 

“You seem happier,” Dis observes a week later, the two of them cleaning the kitchen. Thorin had promised to help, although honestly he isn’t much use. He washes the dishes while Dis does nearly everything else. “Less burdened, at least.”

“Well,” Thorin begins, only to be cut off by raucous laughter. Kili thunders into the room, eyes bright and cheeks stretched in a smile. Fili follows close after, a fist raised in mock anger.

“Uncle! Mother!”

“Boys,” Dis says indulgently. Thorin merely smiles at them, hands busy in the water.

“We’re going out to train for a bit,” Fili says.

“Back by dark!” Kili adds, and kisses his mother on the cheek. Thorin blinks a little as he steps forward to bestow the same gesture upon him, a hand touching him fleetingly on the waist.

“Farewell,” Fili offers, and claps a hand on Thorin’s shoulder as he leaves.

“They’re in high spirits today,” Dis observes.

“Hm,” Thorin says. The warmth of Kili’s lips and Fili’s hand linger. “So they are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Kemgu_ \- accept  
>  _Ukratizu_ \- your glory


End file.
